Deacon sat with his hands set still in his hair. Dressed in a tailored black suit that had been appropriate for the occasion of the funeral had left him feeling the weight of his new reality. However, he was not alone in this endeavor as a gentle hand made its way onto his knee in an attempt to soothe him-an attempt that had been in vain.
"Do you want to talk?" Gwen asked upon bringing her touch to his shoulder. His hands finally moved from his hair and he shook his head before looking down to the gold band upon his left hand. Even if he hadn't loved her, there was still a loss he felt that weighed heavy over him.
"Did you know that she had done this for years?"
"Done what?" Gwen asked in an attempt to keep him talking. For the last two weeks, all he had done was stare stoically into
